


the history of wrong things

by sevenbraincells



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Backstory, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Carrie Wilson Redemption, Character Study, Childhood Friends, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies, Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced, One Shot, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, To An Extent, couldn't be me, haha that's so funny bc it would never happen, i apologize for the lack of flynn's presence, imagine me not writing a fic and projecting onto one of the characters, imagine thinking bobby/trevor is homophobic, this ended up being fluffier than i thought?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenbraincells/pseuds/sevenbraincells
Summary: a story of falling in, out and back in love with your best friend.
Relationships: Julie Molina & Carrie Wilson, Julie Molina/Carrie Wilson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38





	the history of wrong things

**Author's Note:**

> ive written and read so much m/m fic lately that i just needed to get this out into the world for all 100 people who will actually read this fic to enjoy.

Carrie had always been jealous of Julie. And who could blame he. She was Julie Molina, with her perfect hair, adorable smile, killer vocals, talent and individuality. 

She was everything that Carrie Wilson ever wanted to be. And being friends with her was the closest that Carrie could get. And being friends with her was  _ amazing _ . 

But Carrie caught herself wanting to be more than friends with her. Sometimes. Just  _ sometimes _ . And no, the ‘more than friends’ didn’t entail being super mega ultra best friends. 

But Carrie wasn’t going to act on it. She couldn’t. Shouldn’t. 

She knew that there was nothing wrong about  _ her  _ liking girls, her dad had made that very clear in all the girlfriends and boyfriends he’d had over the years. 

It just felt wrong to like her friend. 

It felt wrong to be that close to Julie, to be able to touch her and sit that close to her and sleep in the same room as her. So she grew distant. 

It became stilted, awkward. Uncomfortable. Weird. 

And then there was that party. That stupid party that Carrie never should’ve went to. Especially with Julie.

The thing about parties when you’re barely a teenager is that everyone’s in such a rush to grow up. Julie never did, and that was one of the reasons Carrie liked her so much. Julie was content to be herself: to like the music she liked, to dress the way that she dressed, and it suited her oh so well. 

But Carrie wasn’t like Julie. Not when she’d grown up doing all sorts of interviews and press stuff and started her own girl group when she was eleven. 

So when someone said they should play spin the bottle, Carrie had no choice but to sit down and play. And Julie, being the loyal friend that she was, joined her with a smile as she sat down. 

And  _ oh _ . Carrie was whipped for this girl. 

Carrie did everything she could to get out of the game, but nothing worked. It was eventually her turn to spin and she couldn’t say no  _ again _ . Not when everyone’s eyes were on her, as if her very presence was enough to steal all the attention. 

It was a lot of pressure. 

And so she spun the bottle, wishing in vain that it would land on-

Julie. 

Carrie reached to spin the bottle again, hoping that the flush on her face wasn’t  _ that  _ obvious. 

Someone - Carrie wasn’t quite sure who - laughed, and said, “come on, we’re all a little gay, what’s the big deal?” 

Carrie rolled her eyes but leaned in anyway, as Julie did. 

Their lips met for less than a second before Carrie pulled away, before she’d even been able to tell what flavour of chapstick Julie had been wearing. 

That party was the last time the two ever did anything together. As friends. Carrie started teasing Julie, growing even more and more distant. And then Julie lost her mom and Carrie wanted to go back and say she was sorry but she’d built up this reputation and she knew it would only make things worse-

She’d been vile and cruel to the girl she once loved. And that’s how she realized that she didn’t love her anymore. Because if she did, it would’ve hurt her more, to say and do all those things. 

And yet, there she found herself, every time Julie performed, watching her intently like her life depended on it. Watching this girl who she loved and then hated, this girl who’d been through so much that Carrie didn’t even  _ process _ . 

She saw Julie get lost in the music like the superstar she was, and it was beautiful.

The way Julie performed was beautiful like the way your friends smile after a joke, it was beautiful in the way that people point out the pretty flowers they see. It was beautiful in the way that it made you feel good about yourself. 

And so she stood up, and she clapped. And the boys - the ones she could’ve  _ sworn  _ she’d seen somewhere before, whether it was in a dream or a photograph she couldn’t tell - were gone. But Julie was still there.

Julie was always there, Carrie thought, remembering. Julie was always there for her friends, even if they didn’t know it. She’d always been there for  _ Carrie _ .

From that time she scraped her knee on the playground to the time she’d gotten bombarded with fans asking for her dad at the mall to the time she was failing biology, Julie had  _ always  _ been there. 

And Carrie didn’t remember thanking her, even once. 

Her father went off, to talk to a manager or something - there was something off about that; he’d never even performed at the Orpheum, but she was a little too preoccupied to care about what her dad was doing. 

“Julie,” she said, nearly knocking the shorter girl over.

“Carrie,” Julie said, and Carrie wasn’t sure whether she was scared or surprised. 

“I just, I just wanted to come and say sorry.” 

“Sorry? Come again, I don’t think I heard you right.”

“I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I should’ve supported you when you couldn’t play, instead of making fun of you for it just because I didn’t understand it.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have,” Julie said, trying to sidestep herself away from Carrie. And Carrie let her, without a snarky remark, for once. 

“I used to daydream about us,” she said instead, before Julie got away, more to admit it to herself than to get Julie to stay. 

“You did?” 

“Of course I did. You’re, well, you’re you. Julie Molina. The amazing girl with the voice of an angel. And you chose  _ me  _ to be your friend.” 

“I could’ve said the same about you.” 

“Could’ve?” 

“It’s been a while, Carrie. Maybe in another life-” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“W-what?” 

“I just want to re-do it. What happened. At the party. I was just so nervous and scared and didn’t want to mess things up with you, but I really did just that, didn’t I?” Carrie let out a weak laugh as she finished, but Julie was looking at her like she painted the moon. 

“ _ You _ didn’t want to mess things up with  _ me _ ?”

“Yeah. I mean, I liked you Julie. As  _ more  _ than just friends. And that was hard, because you’re, you were, my best friend and it felt  _ wrong _ . There’s still a voice in my head telling me that it was.” 

“And all this time I thought it was a prank.”

“Why would I-”

“I thought everyone saw how much I liked you, and I thought that you were in on it too, and that guy’s comment was making fun of me, because I wore my pride pin that day.” 

“You liked me?” 

“Seems like you’re the only one who didn’t know,”

“You didn’t know that I liked you-” Carrie pointed out.

“That’s fair,” 

“You never answered my question though.”

Julie sighed. “Just a couple years ago, those were the only words I ever wanted to hear you say.” 

“And now?” 

“We’re not the same people anymore.” 

“We’re not,” Carrie admitted, “but don’t you want to know what could’ve been?”

“I do,” Julie said, almost too quiet for Carrie to hear. “But you’re not the one that I love.” 

“Of course not,” Carrie said, because she always messed it up with everyone. Anyone who ever loved her would eventually stop. Unless they never got to know her. If they were only in love with the idea of her, they could never fall out of love with  _ her _ . 

“That’s not what I mean-” Julie said. “I just mean that it’s too complicated now. I can’t just say yes, the way I always dreamed that I would. Our relationship can’t just be mended like that. We have a lot to fix, as friends, first.” 

“That’s fair,” 

“It is.”

“That’s more than I deserve.”

“Everyone deserves kindness,” Julie said with a smile, and all the feelings came rushing back, strong as ever. “You still have my number, don’t you?” 

Carrie could only nod. 

“Call me. Text me. Whatever. I miss hearing your voice.” 

“I have a youtube channel you know,”

“That’s when you say that you missed my voice too,” Julie said, but she was standing less than a foot away from Carrie with a smile. 

“I did,” Carrie said, “miss your voice, I mean. It’s not the same to hear you sing from way up on stage. I missed talking to you, being with you.” 

“I missed being with you too,” Julie hit Carrie’s arm lightly. “But if you’re into my music, I’m always up for a duet.” 

“Really?”

“Really,” Julie nodded. 

For a moment, it was just the two of them and everyone else in the Orpheum just faded away, but Ray started calling out for Julie and then they were back in the bigger world. 

“I’m-” Julie said with a wave.

Carrie just nodded. 

“Wait,” Carrie yelled. “So, just to be clear, that wasn’t a no, right?” 

“It wasn’t,” Julie yelled back, and Carrie couldn’t help but smile wider than she had in months. Maybe some of the wrongs could be righted. 

**Author's Note:**

> @netflix WHEN you renew jatp for a second season, if carrie and julie aren't canonically sapphic and have (had) crushes on each other then i don't want it. 
> 
> [same goes for giving nick a last name that's anything other than danforth-evans].


End file.
